


Take Me Home

by Aryagraceling



Series: Prompts, Drabbles, and Shorts [25]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts, M/M, They're reunited in the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: It’s never a beautiful business, dying, and as beautiful as Kakashi is, his is no exception.





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Short lil fic based off a lovely picture by [QuirkRed](https://twitter.com/quirkred/status/1162196431505174528) on Twitter. The lyrics at the beginning are from a [Nightwish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGjU5aeiOsQ) song I really enjoy.
> 
> What if Iruka had died after Mizuki's attack, and waited for Kakashi to come back to him...

_ “At the end of the river, the sundown beams _

_ All the relics of a life long lived _

_ Here weary traveler, rest your wand _

_ Sleep the journey from your eyes~” _

The places where rivers flow into the sea have always fascinated Kakashi. Winding, twisting, water cuts through forest, field, and flatlands, hurtling toward oblivion with no care to who or what it picks up along the way. It’s a nearly unstoppable force, much like the road of life, and like that road, it always comes to an end.

Kakashi can’t say he’s surprised he’ll be taking his final breaths in a stream. It seems fitting, almost...poetic, considering the amount of time he’s spent sitting in such places to simply think. His life’s flowed around him like the current, pressuring him to continue on. It’s largely worked, save for a few areas. 

He’s refused to give in and accept the infernal technology Naruto and Shikamaru have pressed him on. He’s refused the cries of his friends not to re-enlist, telling him it’ll be his death sentence. Even through returning to ANBU, at fifty-nine, he’s refused offers of missions to keep him close to the village.

Mostly, though, he’s refused people’s pleas to move on from his partner.

He’s wanted to, an innumerable amount of times through the years. He’s even laid plans to follow Iruka to an impossible place, but every time, he remembers the chunin’s final words to him.  _ Don’t hurry. Live. I’ll be there. _

Kakashi remembers the day he lost him, how it felt to hold Iruka’s lifeless hand in the middle of the forest, how the tears burning his eyes felt as he gazed on the fuma shuriken embedded in his lover’s spine. The day he buried Iruka, he’d gone home with the full intent of dying himself. He’d donned the armor he’d previously put aside and looked in the mirror with a red and white mask cradled in his hand, and he’d cried silent tears at the thought that that night would be his last.

Iruka had shown him peace, and he didn’t know how to live without it.

He’d sniffed, wiped his eyes one last time before catching sight of an unearthly glow coalescing behind him. When he’d whirled around at Iruka’s face coming into view, he’d broken down completely. “Why’d you go?” he’d asked as his knees hit the floor. “Why couldn’t you hang on?”

Chilled hands, colder than Iruka ever let them get in life, had cupped his chin, tilting a tear-stained face to his glow. His words weren’t something Kakashi  _ heard  _ so much as  _ felt,  _ a gentle pressure invading his mind when Iruka pressed two fingers to his temple. The way he’d pleaded for Kakashi not to hurry down the road to him had  _ broken  _ Kakashi, shattered all resolve to hunt down the man responsible for his pain.

“I can’t,” he’d sobbed. “I can’t do this without you, Ru.”

_ You can. Please, Kakashi…  _ The glow had begun to fade when Kakakshi opened his eyes again, Iruka gazing at something Kakashi couldn’t see.

“Stay,” he’d croaked. It might have been tears, might have been the dark, but he’d watched Iruka’s form ripple and had  _ begged  _ for him not to leave before realizing that there was nothing he could do. He’d screamed upon realizing Iruka was truly gone--raw, primal, the sort of screams that leave your throat in tatters and your sanity in shreds--and it hadn’t done a goddamned thing for him. 

Well, maybe they’d saved his life.

Because he’d been heard, he hadn’t gone after Mizuki. He hadn’t fled the village and become one of those who wandered the earth in search of another purpose. Instead, he took Iruka’s plea and planted it in the bleeding wreckage of his heart. He’s done the best he can for as many people as he can and though it’s been  _ hard,  _ nigh  _ impossible  _ on nights when he dreams of brown hair and a ghostly smile, he’s soldiered on.

He’s lived a full life, just as he was asked. 

He’s seen his fill of sunsets and spent more than his fair share of time playing with children Iruka would have adored. He’s become a father to Naruto, a grandfather to his team’s progeny. He’s seen war and peace and enough downtime to know that here, now, laying in a stream with blood drifting away on the current, is as good a place as any to see it end. 

_ Naruto was right,  _ he thinks, the merest hint of a smile tugging on his lips.  _ Too slow.  _

It was foolish, really, to let himself be consumed by the reflection of a mask he’d rather have forgotten. It wasn’t that he  _ wanted  _ to return to ANBU, but there was something to be said about the boredom of sitting around town with nothing to do. Forty years have dulled the visceral hatred he’d felt for it long ago. The hate’s faded to a dull ache, almost comforting in its familiarity. Its  _ simplicity.  _ Even shattered from where he’d used it to break his fall, it’s a reminder of how far he’s come.

“Full circle,” he croaks.

The missing-nin who’d put a sword through his back hadn’t bothered to check he was dead before running off. He wasn’t surprised by that, either--Copy-Nin Kakashi wasn’t someone you wanted to be caught by after angering him. It’s really no matter, though, as dying immediately versus dying minutes from now culminates in the same way. At least now he gets to look over green fields as he anticipates the grey. 

Iron coats his tongue, bitter and rich as his body spasms. He’s lucky it wasn’t a mission of utmost importance, because Konoha won’t get the information he was sent to ferret out. They may not even receive his bones, but that’s far from the worst fate. He’ll be memorialized on the stone he’s been so obsessed with since he saw his teammates’ names carved on it.

Death is simply another stop on the road of life, and he knew he’d get here eventually.

His eyes roll back as, unbidden, a groan rips from his gaping chest. There’s a rattle in it he’s heard so many times before, a rattle he’s  _ caused  _ so many times before. He stopped regretting it a long time ago, because there’s only so much time you can devote to thinking about death when it’s your job to bring it about. He’s learned the way death sounds from every sort of body, a cacophony of screams and wheezes to occupy his quietest moments. 

Blearily, he looks over to see something shimmering next to his mask. It’s probably nothing, a trick of the light on his weary eyes, but he  _ swears  _ he makes out a ponytail swinging in the breeze. He tries to focus and fails as his chest constricts to send a fresh wave of blood to choke his throat. 

It feels like drowning. 

It  _ is  _ drowning, and he thinks there’s a certain irony that it’s his blood and not the stream he’s drowning in. Thrashing, he lurches to the side in an attempt to grab his mask and set what he can on his face to mark his corpse as Konoha’s. Instead, he knocks it into the stream, his body rolling facedown into the water before his temple connects with the rock. Nagging, pulling, the current drags him under, and he doesn’t have the will to resist as it tugs him gently into oblivion.

**

Sometimes Iruka takes a break from watching Kakashi. He’s a capable shinobi, after all, he doesn’t need babysitting. Ghostly limbs sway on the branch where he sits above Kakashi’s little camp, awaiting his return. It had taken him a while to figure out how to control his form in relation to the world around him--he’d had  _ more  _ than his fair share of accidents falling through Kakashi’s wall into Genma’s apartment next door--but once he got it, he was  _ unstoppable. _

Except in extreme cases, like now.

A searing pain rips through him, emanating from his chest and rattling him enough that he falls through the tree and the tent below. “Kakashi,” he gasps as he zips past the fabric. He gets his bearings and begins to run, still not regretting the fact he bound himself to the jonin. To feel what he feels, experience some semblance of life through the man he still calls  _ lover-- _ it’s been worth putting off eternity to watch Kakashi grow.

Every hurt, every joy, every  _ heartbeat,  _ Iruka’s been there for him. He’s dwelt in shadows and walls and statues, quietly waiting for the day he’ll be able to wrap Kakashi in what passes for  _ arms  _ these days. Through all Kakashi’s been through in the years past, he’s been there.

When Kakashi’s cried.

When Kakashi died.

When Kakashi  _ denied,  _ over and over, suitors put in front of him, people urging him to find someone else.

He sprints to the river where he senses Kakashi in pain. He ignores the man running away, because there isn’t much he can do to him at this point. There’s only Kakashi to focus on now. Kneeling in the river beside him, he looks down at the ragged wound as emotion wells within him. It’s Kakashi’s time, he knows. 

_ Finally. _

He can’t say he’s looked forward to this day, because to his surprise, Kakashi took his final request to heart. He’s  _ lived,  _ and Iruka doesn’t want to see what he’s built torn away, even as much as he wants to speak to him again.

“Full circle,” Kakashi says.

Iruka’s not really sure what he means by it, but he runs his fingers through Kakashi’s red-stained greys as though he can provide some sort of comfort as he dies. It’s never a beautiful business, dying, and as beautiful as Kakashi is, his is no exception. It’s messy, painful,  _ ugly  _ as Kakashi jerks for his mask.

The spirits had explained to him that he was allowed one final visit to the world, a few minutes to finish up whatever business he’d left unfinished. A few minutes wasn’t  _ nearly  _ enough, and he’d insisted on staying even though they warned him Kakashi wouldn’t ever know of his presence.  _ Find peace,  _ they’d urged.  _ Come home.  _

Petulantly, he’d insisted  _ no,  _ and they’d taken mercy on him, allowing him to bind his soul to Kakashi. It wasn’t  _ totally  _ out of line, if the ring he’d watched Kakashi cry over was any indication of his feelings. Ever since, he’s walked in Kakashi’s footsteps. From war to teaching and back to war, then into the hokage’s office as a leader and finally as someone begging to be allowed back into the forces, he’s watched over his lover. 

He’s wished he could speak to him more than once. After the first few months it became easier. The first few years slipped past quickly, then ten, twenty, and it had just hit forty before Iruka  _ really  _ regretted the decision. Kakashi had marched into Naruto’s office and demanded to go back to ANBU, and Iruka had watched with growing rage as he’d fought for the  _ okay.  _ Iruka had watched him go on mission after mission and even listened to him wonder which would be his last, and he couldn’t say a word of protest.

Kakashi’s death is undignified. 

Iruka climbs on the rock that holds the remainder of his mask, perching on his heels with arms crossed over his knees as he waits. He’s not sure exactly how long it’ll take Kakashi to wake up, but damned if he’s not going to wait as long as it takes. Idly, he begins to sway back and forth with the growing breeze. His eyes slip shut for a second as he hums, and then he’s jerked back to reality as a rough breath breaks out of the corpse in front of him.

“Ir--” Kakashi coughs, rolling from his body and sinking into the water. He flails, fist flashing through Iruka’s shins as he panics, but soon he gets his bearings. “Ru-Ruka--” His eyes widen as he looks down at the rushing river, catching Iruka’s now-visible reflection. “Iruka?”

“Hey, Kakashi.” Iruka gives him what  _ would  _ be a watery smile--he can’t cry these days--and raises a hand in greeting. “You got old.”

_ “Iruka,”  _ Kakashi repeats, and the sheer depths of relief in the three syllables would’ve knocked Iruka backwards if Kakashi hadn’t gotten there first, launching himself at the chunin’s chest. They both tumble backwards without a splash, Kakashi wiggling over him like an over-excited puppy. He repeats Iruka’s name like a prayer, one interspersed with declarations of how much he missed him and whispers of  _ you’re finally here. _

“I never left,” Iruka murmurs, crushing him tight. Touching him is different in this plane, less warm, but infinitely more intimate as their energies mingle. “I never did, Kakashi, I’ve been here, I’ve been with you.” 

Kakashi doesn’t stop touching him, can’t stop himself from slipping into Iruka and the water and the rocks, because he’s not yet learned how to control himself. He whines when a stick passes through him, and Iruka takes that as his signal to pull him to the bank. Incredulously, Kakashi lets Iruka position him and focuses on maintaining that state as Iruka plops down in front of him. 

“It’s been a long time,” Iruka says softly.

“A very long time.” Kakashi stares at the ground through the outline of his body, face contorting in a confused scowl as reality sets in. “I’m--”

“Dead.”

“I was going to go with ‘a ghost,’ but yes, dead,” Kakashi says. There’s a rumbling above them now, and Iruka hears the tell-tale pattering of rain in the distance as Kakashi marvels at his hands in front of him. “You--” he sets his hands down and peers at Iruka-- “you were waiting?”

“For almost forty years,” Iruka says with a smile. It widens at the way Kakashi’s eyes crease in a smile of his own. “The guardians gave me the chance to go through the gate--” he points to the sky where clouds are beginning to swirl-- “but I didn’t take it. I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

“So you’ve been…” Kakashi reaches between them in an attempt to grab Iruka’s hands, halfway getting it. “All this time?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you.” Lightning cracks above them as a small rift opens in the sky, a sense of urgency tugging at them as the rain hits. It’s been a long time since Iruka’s seen a gate open, and the other side has long since stopped trying to get him through one. “They’re coming for you,” he says over the din.  _ “Us.” _

“Coming for me?” Kakashi yells. 

The wind whips around them, tossing branches around and setting the water to waving. “To go home,” Iruka says. “Away from this world.” He squints heavenward as he pulls Kakashi to his feet, wrapping the jonin against him. “Moving on!”

Kakashi’s never been one for storms, and he buries his face in Iruka’s shoulder as rain pelts through them. “I don’t--I’m...scared, Ru, I don’t want to go.”

The call grows ever-stronger as they stand, and Iruka tips Kakashi’s chin up to face the sky. “We could stay,” he says, “but this won’t stay open forever. We’re here. Together.” Worriedly, Kakashi’s eyes snap to his. “Explore the unknown with me, Kakashi.” He presses their foreheads together, raising their hands as he echoes the first request he ever made to the older man. “Take me home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
> You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:  
[Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/aryagraceling)  
[Discord](https://discord.gg/cM8FaND)  
[Tumblr](https://aryagraceling.tumblr.com)  
[Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/groups/601270063618951)


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